


The Dark Lord's Right

by thefirecrest



Series: Drabbles/Unfinished Works/Prompts [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, Dumbledore is Gandalf, F/F, F/M, Gandalf!Dumbledore, Hobbit!Harry, Hobbit!Ron, Hobbits, Horcruxes, Legolas!Hermione, M/M, Magic, Multi, Obsessive Behavior, One Shot, Only Harry Potter Characters, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Tom Riddle, Possessive Voldemort (Harry Potter), Sarumon!Lucius, Sauron!Voldemort, Voldemort is still the Dark Lord, Woodelf!Hermione, i mean... yes, set in middle earth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 18:52:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15691320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefirecrest/pseuds/thefirecrest
Summary: Branded by the Dark Lord, young hobbit Harry Potter is more than concerned about the arduous task set before him:To burgle from the very abode of the Dark Lord’s second in command.With a vicious war raging through Middle Earth, having ran away from the Shire to join the war effort, strange new magic dancing through his veins, and the dark possessive eyes of Dark Lord scouring the lands for him, Harry struggles to console his need for freedom to the duties he must uphold.A fluid blend of Tolkien's Middle Earth and JK Rowling’s wizarding world.--------Plot bunny that would not leave me be. Is unfinished and will likely stay as such, but I'll likely be updating scenes and the outline periodically.





	1. Wyrmslayer

The Dark Lord lifted him by the front of his loose mithril vest, bringing the small hobbit up to eye level. Harry viciously grasped at the dark elf’s wrists, pulling and twisting his body, in a desperate attempt to escape the vile being. For his efforts he was graced with an amused smirk.

“What business does a halfling have in a battle amongst greater races?” The Dark Lord spoke, somehow above the deafening noises of metal and warring from the ensuing battle surrounding them. He examined his captive then turned to look at the fallen dragon that laid slain behind them. “How does something as insignificant as you succeed in killing off my great Wyrm?”

Harry didn’t answer the dark elf, settled in his thrashings and set forth a unwavering glare, green irises burning with killing fire, as if the tiny hobbit wasn’t staring down the most feared being in all of Middle Earth. The sheer audacity of the look, the cheek of something that should be fearing for it’s very insignificant life, brought forth a surge of emotion within the Dark Lord and almost against his will a deep amusement rumbled through his chest.

“Why do you not cower, little halfling?” The Dark Lord questioned, mesmerized by the vivid green hues of the hobbit’s eyes, the very same color as his killing curse. “Do you not fear death?”

Harry debated for a moment.

“I do not fear you,  _ Voldemort _ .”

The halfling spat the name as if it were a curse, rage greater than his tiny form swirling in a vicious storm, threatening to lash out and injure whomever may dare come close.

“Quite the tongue you have,” the Dark Lord’s eyes widened a margin before pulling back into something dark and  _ sadistic.  _ “Shall I pull it from your lips for the cheek you have shown me?”

Harry growled low and guttural in a way no other gentlehobbit would dare.

Voldemort had no idea what interest held him in this tiny insect, this  _ hobbit _ , a speck that should never have even caught his attention in the first place. But then he thinks to the dragon corpse rotting on the earth behind him, Nigini’s eldest son and the most powerful of his great Wyrms second only to its mother, and the vision of the miniature hobbit dodging and leaping and striking the killing blow to the monstrous beast flashed in his head.

And those eyes.

Those  _ gorgeous  _ avada kedavra eyes.

The Dark Lord Voldemort had no idea what enchantment held him.

But he  _ wanted. _

“Let him go Tom.”

The Dark Lord hissed in displeasure, removing his possessive gaze from his captive to the meddlesome wizard standing apart from them. Albus Dumbledore, the Gray turned White, stood tall and defiant before him and the beast within him snarled.

“Tell me Dumbledore,” Voldemort spoke silkily instead of acting on the burning vicious desires that told him to tear the old fool limb from limb. “It seems this halfling has some worth to you. What is so special about it?”

_ It.  _ Harry snarled in fury and thrashed again but it was of no use. His meager hobbit strength was nothing in comparison to the ageless being that restrained him.

“That is something that you could never understand, Tom,” Albus said with a sigh and Voldemort’s eyes flashed scarlet and dangerous. To Harry the wizard said, “Be calm, little one. I will not allow any harm to come to you.”

Harry felt calm and reassurance flood through him as he looked into the periwinkle eyes of the wizard while above him the Dark Lord broke into a dark mocking chuckle.

“Such faith your foolish little creatures have in you,” he said. “They would follow you into battle, even one as hopeless as this where they will be slaughtered like pigs. Here I hold your halfling pet, it’s pitiful life in my hands, and still yet it believes your filthy lies.” His laugh turned cruel. “I will slaughter all of your miserable followers like the insignificant worms they are.” He cast Harry down at this, forgetting his previous intrigue in the face of his hatred, and the Hobbit hit the hard ground with a groan and gasped as the wind escaped his lungs, then Voldemort brandished at him his weapon; the fabled killing wand.

Harry’s mouth went dry as it began to glow an ominous green, not unlike the color of his own eyes, and the Dark Lord raised it to his prone form. But he could only lay there as he watched death approach him.

“ _ Avada Kedavra.” _

“ **No!** ” Dumbledore bellowed and whipped around his own weapon, a glowing silver staff, and shouted some spell Harry couldn’t hear over the deafening ringing in his ears. A silvery wisp of a Phoenix leaped from the end of the staff and raced towards Harry just as a green bolt of lightning and death shot down at him.

There was a blinding white light as the entire battle raging around him faded into nothing.

And Harry knew no more.

~*~

“ _ Harry…” _

Harry blinked and was met with shimmering green light. For a moment he thought that it was the killing curse filling his vision when he slowly realized that the color was too soft to be the Dark Lord’s infamous spell. He blinked again as his vision cleared and saw that it was a canopy of welcoming leaves above him as sunlight filtered through.

“Harry.” Came the voice again, feminine and familiar.

“Hermione?” He croaked out.

He slowly turned his head and there she was, bushy brown hair and all, the beautiful elven princess whose face was awash with relief. But not a moment later it twisted into something furious.

“You  _ imbecile  _ of a Hobbit,” she hissed out angrily just as she wrapped her arms tightly around his small body. “What in all the realms possessed you to sneak off to a battle everyone warned you to keep away from! You had us all worried out of our minds when we discovered you gone!” Hermione pulled back to glare at him.

Harry sputtered, “Well I-.” He swallowed painfully, “I had a dream last night-“

“ _ A dream?!  _ Oh  _ Valar  _ have mercy,” Hermione groaned. “You little fool. You could’ve died! Had Dumbledore not been there…” Her voice trailed off with a furious tremor and Harry felt his heart soften.

“I did not mean to worry anyone, Hermione,” he said earnestly. “I just… I had seen the dragon in my sleep. I knew that slaying it could save countless lives. Perhaps I might’ve died...” His eyes hardened with resolve, “But I wouldn’t change a thing. I don’t regret it one bit.”

Hermione regarded him for a moment before sighing. “Of course you don’t,” she said. “I’m just… I am just so glad you’re alive.” She pulled him into another strong hug and buried her face into the crook of his neck.

Harry gently rubbed her back as they sat in silence. He swallowed back the sour taste of guilt for worrying her and everyone else. But when the dream had come to him the night before he knew exactly what he needed to do. That Wyrm would’ve slaughtered countless of their warriors and the battle would’ve surely been lost. But there was a chip in it’s breast unbeknownst to all but him, a space only a creature as small as a Hobbit could’ve fit into and exploit. Harry knew that he could kill it, was perhaps the only one capable of doing so. And so he did and he managed to slay the great beast while attracting the unwanted attention of the Dark Lord himself.

Harry swallowed as he remembered those dangerous crimson eyes fixated on him. As brave as his words were in the face of the most powerful dark being in all the realms, inside he had been trembling in fear. Hot anger and adrenaline had fueled his resolve at the time but thinking back on it now Harry was shocked he had lived through the experience at all.

“Blimey! Harry, you’re alive!”

Harry and Hermione pulled apart as someone came into the room. Ronald Weasley, yet another Hobbit of the Shire and close relatives of the Tooks as well as best friend of Harry, stood in in the doorway staring at Harry with great relief. His ginger hair reflected the sun rays blindingly.

“Not so loud, Ronald,” Hermione lightly scolded but motioned for him to enter anyway. The lanky Hobbit charged into the room and came to the other side of the bed and threw his arms around Harry as well.

“Hello, Ron,” Harry greeted with a shakily laugh still feeling winded from his injuries. He still returned the hug with just as much gusto though.

“We thought you were dead for sure, mate. You’ve been asleep for two weeks!” Harry’s eyes widened in shock at the information while Ron continued, “When Dumbledore returned carrying your body we all feared the worst.”

“Ronald cried,” Hermione said teasingly.

The ginger shot her a sour expression, “Don’t listen to her, Harry. She was the one bawling when we saw you. What happened anyway? Dumbledore won’t say a word about it.” He pulled back and gave Harry an expecting look.

Harry frowned a little and thought back to the night of the battle.

“I had a dream of the battle. And so I followed the path I had dreamt of,” he started. “And I saw the Wyrm just as I had seen in the dream. Great big terrifying thing. I would love to say it was ugly, but I guess even foul creatures can be stunning can’t they?” Ron seemed to shoot Hermione a sly look at this and she slapped the back of his head affronted. Harry rolled his eyes and continued, “I knew of a chip in it’s hide near the base of it’s chest. Too small a space to reach for any man, dwarf, or elf.”

“But not for a Hobbit…” Ron said with realization. He gave Harry a big teasing grin, “You’re mad, Harry.”

“Please don’t encourage his reckless behavior, Ronald.” Hermione scolded.

Harry just grinned in response.

“I snuck in with the cloak,” he continued, “Just to get close, of course. The Wyrm could smell me once I got within range of it. It tried to kill me but I just dodged around a bit until I got close enough to the chip. Then I stabbed it with my sword.” He smiled at the memory, remembering how ecstatic he was at actually doing  _ something  _ to help the war effort. “And then of course…” Then he trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to continue the story.

Hermione and Ron both leaned in closer in anticipation.

“Then wot?” Ron asked but Harry couldn’t answer.

A sweat once again broke out on the back of his neck as he thought back to the Dark Lord, whose crimson eyes he could still see behind his eyelids, and Harry swallowed thickly. He had always been pig headed and stubborn, fearful of nothing, and truthfully he really wasn’t scared. But something about the Dark Lord,  _ Voldemort _ , stirred something close to fear in his chest.

“... The Dark Lord was there.”

“The  _ what? _ ” Hermione gasped with horror.

Harry nodded grimly, “He wasn’t mad that I killed his Wyrm. I think he was just intrigued that it was a Hobbit that did it. He grabbed me and picked me up-”

“He  _ picked you up! _ ”

“Hermione,” Ron snapped irritably. “Could you relax for one minute? I am trying to hear Harry’s story.” She shot him a loathsome look. “Go on, mate.”

Harry glanced between his two best friends with uncertainty. Ron seemed eager enough to listen but who knows who he’d go blabbing to and Hermione was as overprotective as always (not that he really blamed her, Elves tended to feel as if all mortal beings were as fragile as glass). He sighed, unsure of how they would react to the next part of the story.

“Well… Dumbledore arrived and he and Voldemort talked,” Ron flinched at the name. “I think Dumbledore was trying to distract the Dark Lord’s attention from me. It worked but perhaps a bit too well, because Voldemort just decided to kill me. He threw me to the ground,” Hermione let out a horrified gasp, “and pulled out his wand and shot the killing curse-”

“You kids busy in here?” A new voice from the doorway suddenly interrupted.

Harry immediately perked up, “Sirius!” The shaggy shapeshifter lifted his upper lip in a distorted smile, one that came from years of isolation.

“Good afternoon, pup,” Sirius said. “You’re looking much better.”

Harry shrugged, “I’m alive.”

Sirius grinned, “I heard that you slayed a dragon all on your lonesome. What I wouldn’t give to have seen that.”

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes, “Honestly. You’re all just encouraging his reckless behavior. It’s very possible that Harry could’ve died taking that risk!”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “But so could anyone else on that field. War is a risky reality. My life is not anymore important than anyone else.”

“That’s… You  _ know  _ that’s not what I mean,” she said. “But what you did was very dangerous and foolhardy. You aren’t an experienced warrior like the rest, and even then the most experienced of us would not even dare think of taking on a Great Wyrm on our lonesome. Had you just told someone-”

“I know how to fight,” Harry replied coolly. “And I defeated the beast, did I not?”

Hermione sighed again, as if she were talking to a particularly stubborn child. “You did. But that doesn’t not change the fact that it was a stupidly dangerous venture.”

“Now now,” Sirius cut in smoothly, sensing the rising tension. “There will be plenty of time to discuss the merits of Harry’s decision.” At this he secretly flashed the Hobbit a wink as if to say he were on Harry’s side. “But I didn’t come in here just to greet you lot. Dumbledore wants to meet everyone in the great hall. Since you’re awake Harry you might as well come along.”

Hermione blinked in surprise, “Father is allowing him to use the Hall?”

“Apparently so.”

“Still though,” the she-elf said hesitantly. “Harry really shouldn’t be getting out of bed this early-”

“Nonsense,” Harry snapped already getting up. “I’m feeling perfectly well. Let’s go Sirus.” If he swayed a bit upon standing, no one said a thing. Hermione simply rolled her eyes again, apparently giving up on trying to force him to rest.

“Fine, fine,” she sighed reluctantly. “Let’s just hurry up. This must be urgent if Father is allowing the usage of his precious throne room.”

“Need a hand, mate?” Ron asked Harry.

The dark haired hobbit was tempted to accept because he was still a bit unsteady on his feet, but one glance over at the elf made him refuse. “I’ll manage. Let’s just get going.” He and Ron made to follow behind Sirius.

“Ridiculous,” Hermione muttered underneath her breath but follow as well.

~*~

The Great Elvenking’s Hall, Throne Room of the Mirkwood Kingdom, was packed full with creatures of nearly every race. Dwarves to the west, Elves in the middle, humans to the east, a handful of Ents to the back, and many others. Sirius led them through a thick crowd, carving a path open for his smaller Hobbit companions, meanwhile Hermione weaved almost effortlessly through.

In the distance Harry spotted two familiar tops of red hair, closest to the throne, and tugged at Sirius’s fraying tunic.

_ Fred and George _ , he mouthed at the shapeshifter who nodded in acknowledgement and changed directions, making a beeline for the only other Hobbits on this side of Middle Earth.

As congested as the loudly talking crowd was, this was far from entirety of Dumbledore’s army, most of which must still be back at their war camps. It was now Harry wondered what they were doing all the way back in the Elvenking’s Hall, far from the battle in the Brownlands. Why had they not return back to camp?

Harry’s questions were put to temporary rest as they came upon Fred and George, both Hobbits who immediately lit up upon seeing him.

“Harry! You’re-” started George.

“-Alive!” Fred finished.

“And Hermione has let you out of bed,” George noted with wonder while Fred gave Ron a rough hair tussle.

“Not for a lack of effort,” Hermione said haughtily stepping up to join them. “But you all know how Harry is, nothing can stop him when he decides to do something.” While the jab was somewhat bitter there was also a hint of fondness in there.

“But of course!” George said exuberantly. “Harry Potter the-”

“-Wyrm Slayer!” Fred continued with equal gusto. “Why the bards will be singing about it for years! Who would’ve believed it? That a tiny Hobbit like us-”

“-could succeed in killing the Dark Lord’s favored beast.” George finished.

Harry blushed and ducked his head. He supposed it was a pretty extraordinary thing to have accomplished. If by the looks many of the warriors in the crowd had been giving him, he was not the only who felt such a way. How far had the tale his achievement reached?

“Good job, pup.” Sirius gruffed out, rubbing a hand over Harry’s head which he only half heartedly swiped away.

Hermione didn’t say anything, though her stony expression divulged her annoyance at the gesture. Harry could somewhat understand where she was coming from. No doubt she had been worried sick for him. But he had also saved lives, had possibly helped win that entire battle.

“Wait,” Harry paused, a sudden thought breaching his mind. “What- What happened afterwards? The battle I mean. Did we win?”

Their small group fell silent then, everyone sharing hesitant expressions.

“We… Well, we didn’t  _ lose _ ,” Ron admitted slowly.

“Thanks to you,” Sirius added.

Hermione nodded solemnly and added herself, “There were still many casualties. As much as I hate to admit it and feed into your recklessness, there would’ve been many more injured and killed had you not slain that horrible beast. We still lost a good third of our forces in the Battle of Brown. We hadn’t… We hadn’t expected  _ him  _ to arrive.”

No one needed further explanation to know exactly who  _ “him”  _ was.

“Dumbledore was rather preoccupied with you or so I’m told,” Hermione continued. “And after hearing your side of the tale I can see why.”

“That he was,” Sirius said. “I was there myself. ‘Was the one to bring you to safety actually. We’re not sure why Voldemort showed his face when he did, but after you killed that dragon and was knocked out, Dumbledore was trying to get you to safety but also trying to keep Voldemort from killing the both of you. That’s when I arrived with a bunch ‘o others as reinforcement. We managed to get Dumbledore and you away from the battle and the wizard told me to bring you back to camp. So I did. But apparently while he was busy with that, the Dark Lord got busy slaughtering the rest of us. But luckily, without that damn Wyrm there, we decimated their forces.” Sirius grinned savagely at this, “As powerful as he is, even Voldemort cannot fight a war on his own, and called a retreat.”

“We still lost a great number of our own though,” Hermione admitted.

“But much less, thanks to you,” Sirius added.

Harry nodded but remained silent as he tried to process all this new information. He was glad his meddling had saved so many lives but… They didn’t have many warriors to spare in the first place. Not like the Dark Lord who most likely hadn’t even expended a portion of his total forces into that battle. Recruitment was hard enough as it was. Races, especially those of the Kingdoms of men, were so reluctant to send their warriors to help defeat this common enemy. As if the chaos would never reach them. Fools, the lot of them. If Dumbledore and their army fell, the cowards that hide behind castle walls would then understand the peril they all faced, but by then it would be far too late.

“Cheer up, cub,” Sirius whispered down to him and Harry look up at him in surprise. The shaggy looking beast-man smiled reassuringly, “We are not so easily defeated. We’ll win this war yet.”

Harry smiled back but inside he trembled. What if they did lose?

His answer, once again, went unanswered as a sudden commotion rippled through the crowd. Dumbledore had arrived, dressed in his eye catching signature white robes, and he was heading for the center of the room accompanied by King Grangduil, King of Mirkwood. The crowd fell silent as the Elven lord took his seat on the throne and the Maiar stood atop the raised floor gazing down at them all.

“My friends,” Dumbledore said with a gentle smile. “We have had many things to celebrate in the past days. We have also had many friends and companions to mourn. But their sacrifices were not in vain. We won the Battle of Brown.” Cheers and shouts erupted across the hall at this. Dumbledore just smiled patiently before raising a hand for silence after several seconds. The voices died down.

“At this time, Voldemort and his army retreats back to lick their wounds,” Dumbledore continued. “I suspect it will be some time yet before we engage once more.”

“We should chase them down and destroy them while they’re down!” A particularly boisterous dwarf shouted from the crowd. This was met with cheers and loud whoops of agreement.

Dumbledore smiled genially at them, “While a most excellent suggestion,  Frór, for I’ve no doubt we could march on Mordor at this very moment and emerge victorious, however without destroying the very essence of Voldemort he will soon rise again with another army. Mordor is heavily fortified and a march on such a fortress will decimate our forces, leaving no line of defence for the Dark Lord’s eventual reemergence.”

The crowd fell very silent at this.

“But do not fret, my friends,” Dumbledore continued. “There is hope yet. For now we shall recuperate our forces and continue to buy time while the Council searches for a means to defeat Voldemort once and for all.” No one seemed to be comforted by this so Dumbledore continued, “Things may seem grim now. The Battle of Brown tragically took a third of our people. Some of you may wonder how much longer we’ll have to endure.”

There was a smattering of grim murmurs at this.

“But-” Dumbledore cut them all off, “Need I remind you that but a few eras ago the races of Middle Earth banded together as they do today. Then the first Dark Lord Melkor, or Grindelwald as some of us older races remember it, had rose to power and attempted to lay destruction across these lands we call home. No one knew safety in those dark days and every creature across these lands, big and small, feared their imminent deaths. But together we defeated him! And here we all are today, as thriving kingdoms and people. Voldemort is but another hurdle we must overcome and I can promise you, my friends, that we will once again endure!”

Renewed cheers erupted at this, people whistling and shouting, hope rekindled amongst their numbers. Harry felt himself grinning from ear to ear at the sound of these words. Fred and George cheered loudly from behind him.

“And let us not forget!” Dumbledore continued again, “The many great feats we have observed during the Battle of Brown! The Ironhand clan who together slew a pack of were-worms as they burst from below the ground!” The crowd began to cheer louder. “Or our very own ranger, Viktor Krum, held his own against thirty Orcs.”

They all glanced over to where the handful of humans were standing, the Northern Rangers led by one Viktor Krum, and the man himself grinning bashfully as his fellow brothers in arms cheered and congratulated him.

“And then there is our Hobbit…”

Harry froze as he felt hundreds of eyes turn to look at him and he fought the urge to shrink down.

“... Harry Potter,” Dumbledore said suddenly facing him. “As I’m sure you have all heard, it was this small Hobbit who fearlessly leaped into the fray of war despite of his given orders.” Harry blushed hard at this, “But had he not done so, perhaps many of us would not be standing here today. Wyrmslayer they are now calling him, for killing the Dark Lord’s favored beast. And for this I extend my deepest thanks to you, young Harry Potter.”

Loud cheers and congratulations filled the hall once more and he felt several hands pat him strongly in applause. Harry felt embarrassed at all the attention but could not fight the grin that filled his face. Even Hermione smiled proudly at him despite her initial disapproval.

“Now then, friends!” Dumbledore called once more and the crowd died down. “In a moon’s time we shall be returning back to East Bight and redouble our preparations. The Enemy will need time to recover so this shall be plenty of time to recuperate our loses and better prepare ourselves for the next confrontation. For now, I shall retire to the Council and discuss our next move.”

Within minutes the crowd dispersed, everyone chatting merrily. Harry and his friends had began to discuss animatedly when Harry felt a small jab in his ribs. He glared hotly up at Sirius who just grinned and pointed a crooked finger ahead of them. Looking up they all saw that Dumbledore was now approaching them.

“It is good to see that you are finally awake, Harry.” Dumbledore greeted kindly, “I must once again extend my deepest gratitudes for your contributions in the Battle of Brown. I would not have approved myself, but I am grateful nonetheless.” Harry ducked his head bashfully. “Now then, I did not come here just to share idle conversation. There is something I must speak to you privately about.” He glanced around at the rest of the small group.

“Of course, you are all welcomed to join us,” Dumbledore said to the rest. “I just ask that what you will soon hear stay discreet amongst the few of us. Please, follow me.”

Dumbledore began to walk off and they all glanced at each other with puzzled expressions. With a shrug, Harry marched off after the wizard and the rest soon followed.

~*~

They entered one of the many beautifully carved out rooms in Mirkwood, one which appeared larger and more lavish than most, filled to the brim with strange whimsical objects that whirled and spun with bright colors and lights. Dumbledore’s personal quarters then.

“Please please,” the wizard beckoned to them. “Everyone, take a seat. I suspect this conversation will take some time.”

They all sat.

“Now then,” Dumbledore said. “What I am about to say concerns solely of Harry, but no doubt he will need support in the coming days. Which is why I am extending forth this vital information to you all: his friends. I trust that all of you will be able to keep this knowledge quiet?”

Hermione and Ron were the first to nod without hesitation as they three of them were no strangers to keeping secrets amongst themselves during their initial journey across Middle Earth. Sirius grunted soon afterwards in confirmation and the twins nodded as well.

“Very good,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “Harry, I would also like for you to inform Lady Luna of what you are about to hear as well. This will go hand in hand with your sessions with her.”

Harry was intrigued now. It was rare now-a-day that Dumbledore had the time to talk to him, not like it had been during more peaceful times back in the Shire when the old wizard had often visited, and when he did it was usually short and trivial; consisting of mostly small talk. Lady Luna of Lorien had been helping him decipher and control his prophetic dreams for months now. What could Dumbledore possibly say that related to this?

“Now, my boy,” Dumbledore began. “Do you remember why I allowed you to journey here to the war front?”

“My dreams.”

The wizard nodded, “Yes. Exactly. It is rare that Yavanna gifts her children with the kiss of magic; much the smallest of her mortal children. A Hobbit with the gift of sight has not been seen in millenia. It was important that you learned to control this gift… However-”

Harry tensed.

“During the Battle of Brown I sensed there was more to the magic within you than mere future sight,” Dumbledore continued. “When Voldemort cast you down and attempted to kill you with his spell-” Gasps erupted from Fred and George at this, who had not been present to hear this part of the story. They were silenced by Dumbledore raising a hand as he continued.

` “I futilely tried to save you by casting my own spell, but everyone knows that there is no magic that can prevent that particular curse from killing it’s target.”

“But,” Harry started in confusion. “I’m still here. Your spell, it did save-”

“It did not,” Dumbledore told him gravely. “The Dark Lord’s killing curse struck true. For moments I believed you dead. And then… Magic bloomed. Powerful ancient magic. It did not feel like Yavanna’s warm touch. This was a power I have not felt for a very long time. The magic shielded you from Voldemort’s spell and absorbed it and, I suspect, had awoken your latent abilities.”

“My… What?” Harry asked.

“It is my hypothesis,” Dumbledore continued. “That the shock of Voldemort’s spell awoke the latent magic within you. Even now I can sense it brewing beneath your skin. I had believed, when I first met you, that you were given foresight by Yavanna. Now I feel that your dreams are but a side effect of this magic, gifted to you by something far older than the Lady of Life. While your body is still that of a mortal, your soul may be something closer to what I am.”

Those words were startling, Harry sucked in a harsh breath at this reveal as everyone else conveyed their shock as well. He felt Hermione glance at him with a sense of foreignness, as if she were seeing him for the very first time. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this.

“Which brings me to my next subject,” said Dumbledore. “In addition to your sessions with Lady Luna, you will now be having some lessons with me to hone your powers.”

Harry’s eyes widened, “R-really?”

Dumbledore nodded sagely, “It could be very dangerous to let your magic develope unchecked. You must learn to control it. As Maiar, we are  _ born, _ in a manner of speaking, knowing how to control our powers. But you are a Hobbit, and you must be taught. Our victory in the Brown Lands will allow us a brief period of respite, which we will use to the fullest. This will give me sometime to train you. At the very least, until you can tame your powers.” He turned and looked at the rest of the room, “As for the rest of you. This information must be held with the utmost discretion. Harry will need your support and counsel. But when you do speak of this, do so in privacy. The Enemy has ears everywhere, and even those we call allies must be treated with caution.”

Something warm bloomed in Harry’s chest as he watched all his companions nod with seriousness. Ron flashed him a grin which Harry returned just as brightly.

“Now then,” said Dumbledore. “I do have to meet up with the Council as I have said. So, regrettably, I will have to ask you all to leave now. Harry, I will send a message to you for when our first lesson will be. Learning mage arts will not be an easy venture. I expect you to be ready.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry nodded his head determinedly.

Dumbledore smiled, “Very good.”

~*~

Harry’s stomach had made its displeasure at it’s two week lack of sustenance loudly known not long after they had left Dumbledore’s quarters. Hermione had immediately began to fuss over him, herding him towards the kitchens with all the composure of a fussy hen. Knowing it would do him little good to argue, Harry allowed the high strung elf maneuver him as she pleased and glared when Ron, Fred, and George sniggered at him from behind their backs.

His annoyance was almost immediately forgotten when beautiful Mirkwood elven women began to bring them platters of food. Being a Hobbit raised on a healthy seven meals a day, he realized how utterly famished he was when the aroma of the meal reached his nose and he dug in savagely. Even Hermione was sympathetic enough not to show her usual displeasure at these mannerisms, as she usually did when Ron ate.

Harry’s annoyance returned with a vengeance though when Sirius pulled his plate from right under his nose, and he glared up at the shifter venomously.

“You’ll throw up if you punish your weakened stomach like that, pup.” Sirius had told him.

Harry’s hobbit pride had reared its head indignantly at the suggestion his stomach was in any way, shape, or form weak. A reaction which garnered many a loud and merry laugh from all his companions.

And then he was settling down for sleep in the private quarters Hermione had procured for him, exhaustion finally sweeping over him. He was unconscious almost immediately the moment his head hit the pillow.

And then he was standing in a study made of stone and garnished in green fabrics, rich woods, and silver embellishments. A fire crackled softly to his left and the sound of crashing waves and a rumbling storm filtered in from the slightly jarred window. Harry felt strangely comforted here, is if he had spent hours in this unfamiliar room. His toes wiggled in the dense strands of the carpet beneath his feet.  This was a dream, he knew, but it felt strangely real.

“Who are you?”

Harry whirled to his left and noticed a figure lounging in an emerald armchair by the fire. A familiar piercing red gaze watched him dangerously. He gasped in surprise.

“V-Voldemort.”

Why was he dreaming about the Dark Lord?

“Ah,” came the sound of understanding and the dark elf rose elegantly from his seat, his height looming over Harry’s. “The halfling from the Brown Lands. Dumbledore’s…  _ pet _ .”

Harry bristled in fury. The Dark Lord was just as infuriating in his dreams as he had been in real life, arrogant and imperious. But at least here the foul being couldn’t attempt to kill him. “I am no one’s  _ pet _ ,” Harry spat.

“Really?” Voldemort said raising his brows with mock surprise. “I do wonder…” He trailed off as he examined Harry, scarlet eyes flashing. “Albus appears to hold you in higher regard than the rest, enough to waste his efforts on you while I decimated your pitiful army.”

Harry snarled in rage but restrained himself from leaping at the Dark Lord. Dream or not, he’d rather stay as far away from the foul creature as possible. He could still remember the helpless sensation of being lifted from the ground and held at the mercy of those cruel white hands.

Voldemort chuckled at the reaction, enjoying the sight of those blazing avada eyes more than he should have. He’d almost forgotten about the fierce little halfling that killed his wyrm, the very one he had thought he killed until that blasted wizard defended him. He had not thought a patronus capable of deflecting an avada kedavra, but no doubt when he clashed spells with the wizard again, and in the ensuing chaos, that Dumbledore made off with the unconscious but clearly still breathing hobbit. But it had not mattered at the time, for he was down one meddlesome wizard and free to slaughter his enemies.

But now as he watched the angry little thing he wondered again how Dumbledore had prevented its death. What alterations had the damnable wizard made to his patronus that could deflect a killing curse? The burning curiosity and nothing to sate it infuriated him.

But at the same time, he could not help but be somewhat satisfied at the outcome. Now that the halfling was once again before him, albeit in dream form, and he felt the familiar burning of intrigue and want boil through him leaving him strangely breathless. Despite it being so fragile, the small thing still glared at him with the fire of a thousand suns. Even in his sleep it stared at him with those gorgeous defiant eyes.

Yes. He desired.

“Come here, halfing.”

Harry momentarily stopped his scowling to blink in confusion. “... Pardon me?”

“I said  _ come here _ ,” Voldemort ordered again. “Or shall I go to you and punish you for your insolence instead, halfling?”

Harry scowled again, his good mood from the day completely soured by this point. “I have a name, you bastard!”

“Do you now?” Asked Voldemort in mocking intrigue.

“Yes,” Harry replied hotly. “It’s Harry Potter of the Shire. Not  _ halfling _ .” Honestly he had grown so tired of larger races referring to him by such a term. As if Hobbits were only half as valuable than other race. As if he were a child to be babied. He certainly was not, being well into his fifties, and he had proven so many fold over.

“Harry…” Voldemort hissed. Where had his mind come up with such a name? And yet… It seemed to fit so perfectly with the image of the spitting dark haired Hobbit with emerald eyes. “Well then,  _ Harry _ ,” he spoke the name with pleasure. “What makes you think you deserve to be called by your name when you speak with such a  _ filthy mouth _ . Few beings greater than you would dare call the Dark Lord a  _ bastard  _ of all things.”

Harry’s mouth went dry and he was suddenly at a loss for words, not knowing how he was supposed to answer such a strange statement. The way the dark elf had said “filthy” as if he were insinuating something. Harry shook the thought out of his head. His mind was doing strange things tonight. Why else would it conjure up the Dark Lord himself and make him say such… strange words.

“Have you lost your tongue, Harry?”

Harry snapped out of his thoughts and resumed his glare.

“I haven’t got to listen to you, not one bit.”

Voldemort rose an elegant brow, “Is that so? Well I do beg to differ.” And with that he placed down his book and began to walk towards Harry. The Hobbit immediately taking a startled step back.

“W-what are you doing?”

“You refused your Lord’s command,” the dark elf explained. “This can only mean you must be punished.

“You are not my Lord!”

Voldemort paused in his stride, then a sinister laugh escaped his lips, “Foolish mortal. I am the Lord of all who resides in these lands. It is only a matter of time before your forces are felled by my own. Only a matter of time before I subjugate what is rightfully mine. If your Wise Council were wiser, indeed, they would surrender to me now instead of wasting the pitiful lives of your warriors.”

“You will  _ not  _ defeat us,” Harry spat furiously. “You lost at the Brown Lands while we were victorious. And we  _ will  _ defeat you!”

Scarlet eyes flashed. “Thanks to you, of course.” Voldemort’s mind flashed to Drogo, Nigini’s eldest and now dead son. “Had my Worm lived, he would have feasted enough to last him two moons.” The halfling visibly raged at this comment which only spurred Voldemort on further, “And still yet, Dumbledore’s army did not leave unscathed, of that I made sure of. As I have said before, it is only a matter of time.” A thought came to him and he voiced it with little concern, “I do wonder… How was it that such a small and pitiful creature as you could succeed in killing a great and powerful beast as my Drogo.”

“As if I would tell you anything,” Harry snapped.

Voldemort shrugged, unconcerned, having not expected much more out of a conjuration of his mind anyway. “It is of little matter. I will not make the same mistake twice. I will bring several dragons with me the next time, perhaps even more.” The thought of his dragons swooping down, burning and devouring his enemies sent a pleasured shiver down his spine.

A different type of shiver shot through Harry as he imagined much the same scenario, but instead pictured the limp bodies of his friends and companions at the mercy of those wicked teeth and fangs.

He stuttered, “T-then I’ll slay each and everyone of those foul creatures as well!”

“Will you now?” Voldemort asked amused. He had not been this entertained during his sleep in a long time. And with such lovely company as well. Really, the halfling had no business having eyes as lovely as those. And those locks of midnight hair? Divine. Voldemort could clearly see the taut muscles straining in anger beneath his clothes, and small as he was the halfling was obviously matured for his race. What Voldemort would not give to see those short pale limbs stretched over the black linens of his bedding.

Perhaps he would.

But it was strange indeed that this manifestation of his dreams did not heed his commands, almost as if it had a mind of its own. He had long since learned to wield full command of his dreamscape, and while the halfling did not obey him Voldemort could admit that this unexpected change was somehow refreshing. If he wanted to touch the beautiful Hobbit, it would be a fight to do so.

Voldemort loved a good fight.

Harry was startled when the Dark Lord (who had suddenly gone silent for unnerving several moments) began his stride towards him again without word. This time some strange emotion brewing in the depths of those dangerous blood red eyes. He did not know what it meant, just that it did not bode well for him. Harry took a hasty step back, his bare feet now touching the cool stone floor of the chamber.

His back hit the wall.

_ “Harry-!” _

“S-stop,” Harry demanded when the Dark Lord continued to approach. “Stop!” He demanded more forcefully. Now Voldemort was looming over him.

_ “HARRY-!” _

He awoke with a start, sitting up right in his bed and clashing his forehead painfully into something hard. A yelp of pain reached his ears and he saw something bright orange flinch back. It took Harry several long seconds to realize that he was sitting back in his own bed in Mirkwood. Ron Weasley was hunched over in front of him clutching his forehead. Harry’s own was throbbing in pain.

“Bloody-!” Ron cursed loudly, still rubbing as his forehead. “What was that for, Harry!”

Harry blinked, still trying to shake off the strange dream that he had just had. The Dark Lord had been in it. “I- Sorry, Ron. I didn’t mean it. It was an accident.”

“You were mumbling in your sleep when I came in,” Ron said sounding less pained now, but still holding his head. “I tried to wake you up, but you wouldn’t wake. And then you sat up suddenly and banged me.”

Harry winced, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Yeah, well don’t do it again,” Ron mumbled sourly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is what I have written of the outline thus far.


	2. Outline Part I

~*~

Warning: To make the story and characters more believable and relatable some of the more powerful beings have been nerfed for the narrative’s sake, making them a little closer to powerful mortals than ageless overpowered gods. Such as Voldemort who is basically Sauron, but in this he’s not so much a big bad dark being that has no emotion or empathy. Otherwise, a romance would be nigh impossible to write.

~*~

The story starts off in the middle of a battle on the Brown Lands, in a series of collisions between the forces led by The Dark Lord Voldemort (of the first Ainur [primordial angelic beings] created by Eru [basically god] before the Middle Earth and the Arda [world] was born) and the forces (elves, man, dwarves, ents, etc…) led by Dumbledore (who is basically Gandalf but more meddlesome; also an Ainur but a lessor one).

Harry, a Hobbit, runs away from the Shire because he felt stifled by his prestigious Potter expectations as the sole living heir to the nobel name (Lily and James having died when he was young). He takes Ron with him (and his invisibility cloak James left him) because Ron felt overshadowed by his horde of Took siblings and wanted to make something of himself. Dumbledore, who like Gandalf often visits the Shire, agrees to take them but also because he senses that Valar has granted Harry magic.

Harry and Ron want to help out with the war against Voldemort so they start on a quest across Middle Earth to reach where all the war efforts are taking place (on the other side of the Misty Mountain Range, where the Mirkwoods are, all the way down to Mordor). But Dumbledore, though he accepted them because of their friendship and also Harry’s magic, is hesitant to let two untrained Hobbits into the line of fire. So he asks Hermione, heir to the Mirkwood throne, to babysit the two on their first journey which she is initially very salty about. But she gets over it when their adventures take them to dangerous places (because the golden trio are danger magnets) and they all save one another on various occasions. The three become close friends.

They do eventually get to the East Bight, where the base of operations are being run (a large man-made clearing south of the Elvenking’s hall and the easternmost side of Mirkwood), and Hermione takes on more responsibility now that she’s home and her skills needed in battle. Meanwhile, Ron and Harry get assigned menial tasks because no one wants to see them injured in battle (also everyone sees the tiny Hobbits are precious cinnamon rolls). They do bond with a lot of people though. Including:

Sirius Black - a kinda crazy shapeshifter that has the form of a man but can turn into a Grim at will (kinda like Beorn)

Luna Lovegood - a seer elf from the Lorien forest who’s doesn’t seem to be completely there

Fred & George Took- Ron’s brothers who snuck along for the hell of it (basically Merry and Pippin)

Neville - a kind gentle dwarf whose entire clan was slaughtered by the Dark Lord’s agents. He’s surprisingly a really good warrior and an excellent healer knowledgeable on all sort of herbs.

Hagrid - He’s still a half giant here. He met Sirius and lived with him for a decade or two due to their shared isolation and exile (Sirius hates society, Hagrid is shunned by it), until they both joined Dumbledore’s Army.

Viktor Krum - a human Ranger of the North and, originally unknown to him, Heir of Gondor

And more but I won’t list them now

So anyways. Harry’s magic is still latent but he does experience them through prophetic dreams which he usually puzzles out with the help of Luna who also experiences similar visions (but for her it’s a constant, every moment of every day, kind of thing). He’s itching to help out in battle especially after months of just doing tasks around the camp and learning swordplay from the warriors. So when he has the vision of the Wyrm and how it would change the tide of the battle he asks to help. When he’s turned down he instead sneaks into battle with his cloak where he slays the Wyrm and attracts the attention of Voldemort.

This is where the story starts. After Harry wakes up in the Elvenking's Hall in Mirkwood and has his meetup with Hermione and Ron, he discovers that the killing curse which Dumbledore supposedly saved him from has left a cursed scar on his forehead. The scar seemingly has awoken his latent magic powers and Dumbledore uses the victory from the battle to take time to teach Harry a bit. In reality though, Voldemort’s spell did kill Harry but Valar’s magic protected/resurrected him and by making him a horcrux, and it’s Voldemort’s magic in his system that has “awoken” Harry’s. But this isn’t revealed until later in the story.

Harry’s prophetic dreams start to change, reflecting his new connection with the Dark Lord. Voldemort as well starts dreaming of Harry but he mistakes it as sexual desire and the need to possess that makes Harry the subject of his dreams. They talk in their sleep but neither is aware that the other is more than just a figment of their imagination. Meanwhile, as the next attack is being planned Voldemort puts out the notice to bring to him alive the “Hobbit with killing curse eyes” if he is spotted on the battlefield. Word gets out and no one wants to let Harry out of the safety of the camp anymore as they are unsure of why the Dark Lord wants him. This also sows some discourse in the army as some of the less trusting races believe Harry may be a spy.

Months pass as Harry becomes more proficient in his magic when suddenly a human kingdom is overrun without warning one day. Voldemort’s army should not have been able to travel such distances without notice and panic spreads across the lands. Up until this point most of the Kingdoms of Man have stayed out of the war, but with this conquest and Voldemort making a point that joining him is their only salvation, the human Kings are growing weary and restless. If these powerful kingdoms to the East join Voldemort’s forces it’ll spell the doom for Dumbledore’s Army.

Harry then has a dream where he is in Voldemort’s study and there is a plan and spellwork on the table, most likely the method the Dark Lord’s army is getting around. So Dumbledore devises a plan where someone will sneak into Lord Malfoy’s castle home on an island in the middle of the land-locked Sea of Rhun.

Lucius Malfoy (think Sarumon, but they’re different races) is almost as old as Middle-Earth itself [different from Arda, which is the world “universe” as a whole], and is one of the first Elves to walk the lands. However, he and many of his elven kin were taken in by Voldemort’s predecessor Melkor (Grindelwald) the first Dark Lord. They took a dark potion spell that turned them into dark creatures. The spell failed for the most part, disfiguring many elves into the less-intelligent and savage Orc race today. But for those that it worked on, Malfoy and a select few other elves, they retained their ethereal forms and intelligence and became elite members of the Dark Lord’s forces (later, after the defeat of Grindelwald/Melkor they joined Voldemort). Lucius Malfoy is the closest to a right hand that Voldemort has and his fortified fortress is likely where the plans would be held.

Dumbledore can’t go because he is too well known and there would be wards specific to keep him out. But it is indisputable that someone with magic must go and at the moment all the Maiar (what Gandalf is and what Dumbledore is in this AU [other lesser Maiar will probably be Slughorn and other Hogwarts teachers/idk what to make McGonagall yet]) are in hiding and don’t want to be found (which means they won’t be). The obvious answer is Harry but everyone vocally disagrees but of course Harry accepts right away.

After being prepped to go off, Harry is flown on Sirius’s Hippogriff companion, Buckbeak, and accompanied by Dumbledore’s eagle allies to some rock formations close to Lucius’s fortress. Harry swallows some gillyweed, grown and harvested by Neville, casts a water-repelling spell, and swims to the stronghold island. He then sneaks into the castle using the path he remembers from his dreams.

Voldemort is out of the castle at this time so Harry evades notice with his cloak and successfully infiltrates the Dark Lord’s study where he find the plans, in a language he cannot read but Dumbledore can, so he hurries to leave. However, on his way out he’s discovered by Lucius who immediately recognizes Harry as the one Voldemort has been looking for. There is a chase around the castle but Harry is inevitably captured and locked up in a tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it folks. That's all I have for now. Tune in for more... Maybe. :P  
> I'm a notoriously bad updater, so don't get any hopes up. Cheers.


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